


Dualitas

by CalmBeforeAStorm



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Ancient Egypt, F/M, Post-Ceremonial Duel, Reunion, Supernatural powers at work, Therapy fic with a bit of plot (hopefully), Yugi and the gang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalmBeforeAStorm/pseuds/CalmBeforeAStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'A young man, who looked to be in his late thirties or so, was on his knees before him, held there by the sure grip of two palace guards. They stared wordlessly at each other, this man and the young king'</p>
<p>The inexplicable arrival of a man from the twenty-first century to Atem's court in the afterlife throws everything the Pharaoh thinks he knows about his new home to the wind. As he attempts to bring order back to Kemet and find a way home for the stranger, he can only hope that the consequences of this phenomenon do not disrupt the lives of the friends he left behind...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Atem I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone.  
> This is my very first fanfic for this fandom (on ao3, anyway) - I could no longer manage to avoid writing a post-ceremonial duel story for myself. I needed one. Badly. Hopefully I can move on with my life now.  
> Whilst I love Egyptology, I am no expert, so please forgive me if anything I have written seems wrong to you. I tried to be as historically accurate as possible (as much as you can be historically accurate when it comes to the Egyptian afterlife, anyway) but please don't hesitate to point out any inaccuracies.  
> I have a vague plan for where this is going, and half of the next chapter written, but as I am heading into my final year of school soon updates may be few and far between. I will try though!  
> I have chosen to use the Japanese names for most of the characters, with a few exceptions.  
> Let's do this.

The alabaster walls of the Great Palace always glowed slightly at night. Torches created dancing shadows on the tall pillars of the entrance walk, and the scent of sweet incense drifted far enough that the common Egyptians below in Thebes would sometimes catch snatches of it in the air on their way home. Thus, the palace had the appearance of constant activity, a well-crafted image carefully maintained. It pleased the people of Kemet, and gave them a sort of comfort and pride to know that the Osiris-King was always awake and working, guarding the city and its people even when they slept.

Of course, they knew, in reality, that even the Mighty Pharaoh had to sleep sometime. But that didn’t bother them as much as much as it may have had before. This was the Afterlife, after all; there was no illness here, no famine, no war. The Inundation always came on time, and the crops never failed. There were still small squabbles and conflicts amongst families and friends, just as there had always been, but on the whole life was perfect.

And the Gods themselves knew, their current Pharaoh was a man who had earned a little rest now and again.

 

* * *

 

 

The Pharaoh was _not_ sleeping, although he could feel his tiredness begin to weigh his eyelids down. In fact, he hadn’t slept in at least thirty hours, by his reckoning, but he had gone longer before and knew he could now.

He sat on the ground at the head of a long, rich rug, on which had been placed baskets of yellow papyrus scrolls, reed pens and plates of fruit. His advisors were gathered around, all twenty of them – his priests, his heads of security, representatives of Kemet’s various nomarchs and his vizier, sitting directly to his left. They had been discussing preparations for the Pharaoh’s upcoming _heb-sed_ , his jubilee celebrations, but they were on a much-needed break now. The advisors had broken off into little conversation groups, quietly reaching for grapes or some figs to keep their hunger at bay.

The King sighed and stretched his arms high above his head, warming long-unused muscles. His legs were beginning to cramp, sitting cross-legged as he was, and he knew that he needed to get up and walk about a while - if not for his legs, then to help stave off his weariness for a while longer.

Turning to Shimaun, mouth already opened to suggest this, he found the old man nodding, a smile pulling at his lips.

‘Go on. I think it’s time we called it a night anyway’

The Pharaoh grinned – his vizier was sometimes uncannily quick when it came to predicting his king’s wishes.

He stood up, trying his hardest not to stumble as little pricks of discomfort travelled up his legs – _pins and needles,_ his aibou had called them – and announced an end to the night’s meeting.

His advisors bowed their heads low, soft murmurs of ‘Goodnight, your Majesty’ following the young man out the room.

The Pharaoh didn’t dawdle. He strode quickly through the dark corridors connecting the meeting rooms to the Royal Wing of the palace, anticipating his soft silk bed sheets with the sort of relish only a man who had been separated from them a long time would appreciate. Any servants still awake stood at the wall and bowed as he went by, but did not place their foreheads on the floor – he had long ago done away with that practice whenever protocol did not strictly require it. He murmured a quick blessing as he walked by them, as was his custom – he had grown up with most of the Palace servants, and knew them well – but he did not stop. Sleep was calling him, and he fully intended to answer that call as soon as physically possible.

He almost made it.

‘Prince!’

Atem wanted to be annoyed. He really did. But Mana’s casual cheeriness always managed to lift his spirits, just as her hyperactivity always managed to wear him out eventually. Besides, he hadn’t seen her in a full day, and she was his best friend.

The young mage bounded up to him, characteristically cheerful, and wound her arms around him, as she always did. Her casual touches remained a novelty for Atem, who had long grown used to being treated as untouchable by the court. Only a select few people touched even his sleeve without permission – his parents, his vizier, his cousin and his priests. And Mana, of course.

Atem grinned and returned the hug, inhaling her familiar scent – lilies and Nile reeds – reaching up at the same time to straighten his uraeus coronet, which had been dislodged by the force of Mana launching herself at him.

‘Prince,’ she said again, a glint of excitement visible in her hazel eyes, ‘You must come with me and see this. A camel has found its way into the Harem and they can’t get it out!’

Atem couldn’t help himself; he laughed -the image was too absurd. Slipping his feet out of his sandals, he picked them up with one hand, Mana keeping a tight hold on the other as she dragged him further and further away from his chambers.

Surprisingly, Atem found that he didn’t mind too much at all.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next day began much the same way Atem’s always did. He was woken at dawn to greet Ra’s chariot as it returned from its nightly battle with chaos, performing the traditional blessing with a practiced ease before he was even fully awake.  Afterwards, his personal servants were there with bright smiles and greetings (and, just as importantly, a mug of refreshingly light beer to wake him up) and he sat dutifully still as scented oils were rubbed carefully into his skin. The man in charge of getting Pharaoh’s clothes ready each morning helped him dress in a soft linen shendyt, pulling a cotton tunic so fine it was see-through over the top of it.

Gold anklets and armbands were slipped on, and jade and obsidian rings for each hand. His heavy golden collar was clipped around his neck, resting low on his chest, and delicate earrings pulled through the piercings in his ears. Atem kept his eyes carefully shut as a stick of kohl was brushed around them, a servant’s hand gently turning his face to keep the light – after asking permission first, of course. Eventually a cushion was brought over, on which rested Atem’s favoured crown, the Eye of Horus diadem that he had been presented with while still only Crown Prince. This, Atem took and placed on his head himself.

It was a half an hour by the time Atem was deemed majestic enough to begin his day properly, which gave him a little time to wake himself up fully.

He thanked his servants and left them to tidy up and make his bed, heading to the throne room for his morning audience with his vizier. Navigating the familiar corridors with ease, the young king tried and failed not to smirk when he spotted a harried servant crossing the courtyard below with a tray of what looked suspiciously like camel dung.

The Pharaoh waited outside the curtains of fine silk that served as a doorway to the hall as a gong announced his arrival, then strode through unhesitatingly when they were drawn apart for him. The court, already gathered and chatting quietly amongst themselves, knelt, almost as one, and placed their foreheads on the floor as he walked quickly by them to the jewel-studded dais at the far end of the hall, upon which was the golden throne of Kemet.

When he was settled comfortably down and his court had chanted the traditional Royal greeting – ‘ _Oh Son of Ra, Great Pharaoh, we wish you life, health and prosperity’_ – Atem began his usual daily routine of listening to and dispensing advice, arbitrating disputes, receiving tributes and planning temples and festivals. All in a day’s work for the King of Egypt, even in the Afterlife.

It was only later when it became clear just how extraordinary this day actually was.

 

* * *

Atem stared in shock at the man in front of him.

 One half of his mind was reeling, the other half trying to maintain outward composure and stop his body from lurching up from the throne. His mouth was dry, his head beginning to pound.

What he was seeing was impossible, he knew – but then, Atem had grown quite used over the years to the impossible failing to stick by its definition. What was worse, far worse, was the knowledge that what he was seeing was also very wrong. Not only should this be impossible, it was so _not-right_  that it threatened to disrupt the peace and balance of Ma’at, the hallmark of the Afterlife itself. It had the potential to shatter the very foundations of Kemet, destroying the things Atem thought he knew about how this world worked in one fell swoop.

And, try as he might, he couldn’t deny the thrill of hope that had fluttered through his ribcage at the sight.

A young man, who looked to be in his late thirties or so, was on his knees before him, held there by the sure grip of two palace guards. They kept their eyes carefully averted from Atem’s face, gazing steadfastly at his shoes or, occasionally, at the man in their custody. Said man did the very opposite, gazing in awe and fear at the younger man with piercing, black-rimmed eyes and unusual hair, dressed in so much gold his own skin was glowing with its hue, and seated on what was undoubtedly a throne. It was the expression of a man seeing a god for the first time, and being terrified at the realisation. They stared wordlessly at each other, this man and the young king.

The guards, seeming to notice the stranger blatantly breaking protocol and meeting Pharaoh’s gaze with his own, shook him carelessly. Atem gestured automatically for them to stop.

‘It’s alright. You may let go of him now, but stay near’

After all, how was this man supposed to know how to behave here? This wasn’t his world.

As the guards did as they were instructed (and the man seemed to breath a small sigh of relief, while remaining tense), Atem carefully examined the stranger. He was most definitely not Egyptian. He was pale-skinned, with hair cropped closely to his head, an earring in one ear. He wore tracksuit bottoms and runners with markings that Atem was sure he remembered seeing on the similar ones worn by Anzu, when he used to borrow Yugi’s body to go running with her before school each morning. He was wearing a t-shirt that had a picture of a grim-faced bald man on it, with a word printed in a language that Atem, with another jolt of excitement that he didn’t even bother trying to suppress this time, recognised as English – or possibly German.

Finally, Atem was amused to note, one of the guards was awkwardly clutching what appeared to be an iPhone, looking for all the world as though he would rather get rid of it as soon as possible -undoubtedly taken from the stranger.

This man was from the twenty-first century – the world Atem had reluctantly left behind five years ago.

‘Where did you find him?’ This was directed at one of the guards, who jumped and then seemed to beam with pride at being addressed by the Osiris-King himself.

‘Outside the temple of Amun at Karnak, your grace. He was walking around babbling to people in some foreign language, your majesty, and shaking his amulet here in anger’

The guard held up the iPhone distrustfully, and Atem fought to keep an impassive face.

He thanked the guard, whose smile nearly split his face in two, before returning his gaze thoughtfully to the man still kneeling on the floor, confused and frightened at hearing what was obviously a completely incomprehensible language flowing around him – discussing his fate, as far as he knew.

Atem felt sorry for him, remembering what it felt like to get lost in an unfamiliar culture. He never really had to learn Japanese, borrowing from Yugi’s own fluency just as he borrowed the boy’s body, but he had often found himself baffled by the complex customs of the country.

Distantly, he was aware of the entirety of the court – vizier, priests, nobles and advisors included – staring at the unexpected drama currently unfolding in the throne room of the Great Pharaoh of Kemet, but he paid them no heed. As much as he was ashamed to admit it, even to himself, this was the most exciting thing that had happened to him in years.

He tried Japanese first, but wasn’t surprised when he was met with confused silence.

Struggling to recall the small amount of English he was able to learn in his brief time with Yugi – who had let him borrow his textbooks after learning that the spirit of the millennium puzzle had more of a talent for language learning than he did – Atem sat up a little straighter and tried again.

‘Hello? Do you, em. Speak English?’

Atem watched as joy flooded the man’s face and he visibly struggled to hold back tears of relief.

‘Yes! Yes, I’m from London, I- I don’t know how I ended up here’

The Pharaoh quickly translated the words into his own native language before nodding his head in understanding.

‘That’s alright, we, uh, we help you now. What is your name?’

‘Adam, sir-eh, your majesty’

Again, Atem nodded, trying to put the man at ease.

‘I am Atem. I am king here. This is Egypt. But not your world. You - you should not be here’

Oops. Wrong thing to say, evidently.

The stranger seemed to panic, and glanced quickly at the guards on either side of him, who remained close enough to grab him again with ease.

A very English swear word popped, unbidden, into Atem’s mind, and he nearly laughed at surprise. He almost heard it in Jounouchi’s voice, tinged with pride at his new-found, forbidden English.

‘Oh! No, please -you are safe here. No danger, I promise to you’

The man – Adam- relaxed again, but Atem could still see the worry in his features.

He sighed.

‘It is - strange, that you are here. But we will help you now. No fear, please’

Atem inwardly switched back to Egyptian and lifted his head, looking past the man to the people now staring in confused awe at their king understanding – and speaking! – this strange, pale-skinned man’s language.

‘There is something very strange occurring here. This man is from the time period I left behind when I finally took up my place here in the afterlife, but not from the same country. That is why I know some of his language. He is confused and frightened – he does not know why he is here any more than we do, but he is not here to harm anyone. My mages will begin their investigation into this as soon as possible. In the meantime, please treat this man with respect and understanding, and welcome him as much as you can to the court’

He turned to Shimaun, who was keeping a careful eye on the crowd, watching their reactions.

‘Shimaun, could you organise a bed and some food and drink for this man please? And gather my priests; tell them they are to meet me in the council rooms as soon as I close court’

Shimaun nodded, and motioned to his own assistant, who listened carefully to his master’s instructions and hurried off as soon as the old man finished.

Meanwhile, Atem began to try to convey, as simply as possible, the plan to the stranger, who was still kneeling.

‘Please, stand’

He did.

‘We are, ah, going to search for answer and way back to your world for you in the morning. In the meantime, you are hungry? And, em……’ Try as he might, the Pharaoh couldn’t call to mind the word he wanted, so he mimed the universal sign of going to sleep, joining his hands and holding them under his chin.

The message, thankfully, got through, and the man nodded gratefully. One of Shimaun’s servants approached him and bowed before carefully taking his elbow. The man looked confused for a moment more before allowing himself to be led to one of the side corridors snaking away from the throne room.

‘Thank you Atem, your majesty’

The Pharaoh could practically see the nobles twitching in outrage at this blatant disrespect – how dare this man address their Pharaoh by his given name without permission?! - but he could only smile.

‘Yes. Goodnight, Adam of England’

As soon as the stranger was gone, whispers began to fill the throne room, quickly growing into a loud buzz that rattled around Atem’s ears as he sank down, unexpectedly tired. Outside, the torches were being lit, and the desert heat had dissipated into the coolness of the night air.

Thoughts raced around the Pharaoh’s mind, barely slowing for the seconds needed for him to acknowledge and examine them.

What did this mean for the afterlife? This was unprecedented, he was sure of it.  As Pharaoh, and, perhaps even more so, as former Keeper of a Millennium Item, he was aware of just how delicate the balance of Ma’at – the order of things, the force that kept chaos at bay – was, and how easily disrupted it could be. After all, hadn’t the Shadow Games occurred simply because he himself had lingered longer than he should have in a world he had once belonged to? What would happen now that this man, who was evidently very much alive and with no reason or right to be in the Egyptian afterlife, had seemingly just wandered across the boundaries between worlds?

Even as Atem stood and dismissed the court, and the crowd prostrated themselves one more time before him, he was still rapidly running through the possible ramifications of this unexpected arrival, quicksilver mind dissecting and discarding ideas, just as it used to when he faced off against a particularly slippery duelist. He left the throne room quickly, heading towards the very meeting room he had left so gratefully only the night before.

What did this mean for his friends, both Egyptian and Japanese? Would this man have news of them? The possibility was slim, he knew, but Atem had ached for his friends these long years of separation, and he wished more than anything to know of their lives since his departure. Did Yugi still duel? Had Anzu made it to New York? Were Honda and Shizuka together? And Jounouchi and Mai? How much more money had Kaiba made since he last saw him?

Atem smiled as he let himself recall all their faces, their voices. How he had missed them.

This new development could signify that it could be possible to see them again, soon. But under what circumstances?

If indeed he did get the reunion he so often dreamed about, Atem couldn’t quite be sure what the consequences would be for the people - and worlds - he loved.

 

 


	2. Yugi I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the King of Games.

Yugi used to believe that, with all the travelling he did, eventually airports would stop being so hellish and just become mundane. A false belief, as it turned out.

  
The young duelist sighed and shifted his travel bag out of the way of a frazzled-looking woman towing along a set of twins. He briefly wondered which flight she was heading on, and more importantly, whether she would make it before the gates closed. He’d been in her position many times in the last few years, and didn’t envy her one bit.  
The loud ding! of his phone’s text alert distracted him from his musings, and he glanced at the screen with relief.

  
_Waiting at East exit with taxi. Where r u? – Anzu_

  
Yugi grinned and typed out a brief reply to say that he was on his way. Pulling the handle down, he began to wheel it through the airport, hoping to all the gods that his understanding of the English signs was correct and he wasn’t heading back the way he came. All around him, busy people rushed about; running to catch their flights, throwing their arms around much-missed friends and family, waiting impatiently for the barista to fill up their coffee cups.  
Someone shoved roughly passed him, knocking his bag’s wheels off-balance.  
_Well, excuse you_ , Yugi inwardly grumbled, watching the man’s retreating back and trying to set his things in order again. _I guess what they say about New Yorkers is true_.  
Immediately, Yugi felt familiar guilt rush through him. The duelist hadn’t changed fundamentally in the past five years, and he still had a gentle heart. He knew it wasn’t fair to say such things, and his years of travelling the world and meeting people from all cultures had given him an even more-open mind than he had as a teenager. Besides, he didn’t know what kind of day the man was having. Everyone had a bad one, once in a while.  
Anyway, he was here to see Anzu for the first time in nearly six months. He was not going to let anything spoil his mood. He continued walking towards the exit, where bright summer sunshine and an old friend were waiting for him.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
Yugi stayed with Anzu in New York for nearly a month.  
By the gods, he had missed her. As much as Yugi appreciated all the new, wonderful technology the world was coming up with day by day, Skype and Facebook could only go so far. Nothing beat seeing your friends face to face, in his opinion.  
Anzu had settled in to the city well – but then, Yugi always knew she would. It suited her down to the ground. Having brought her sense of fashion with her from Japan to America, she was just as stylish as ever. Her cheeriness and all-round kindness ensured that she had a wide circle of friends, all of whom greeted Yugi enthusiastically and warmly when he was introduced. As a chorus dancer for a major production on Broadway, she had to leave him on his own several days, which didn’t bother him one bit. Yugi explored the city as much as he could with his limited English, cursing his younger, lazier self for letting the Pharaoh take his language classes for him.

  
At night, he and Anzu would go out for something to eat, or, better yet, stay in her flat and just order something. He enjoyed curling up on the sofa with her, not even trying to pretend that he could understand the American sit-coms Anzu was laughing at. They even had a few rounds of Duel Monsters (which Yugi only felt slightly guilty for winning).  
Most of the time though, they talked. Yugi filled Anzu in on all the small details of how their friends in Japan were. He told her about Kaiba’s new holographic duel discs, which were considerably more comfortable and less clunky to wear than the old ones they used to duel with, and the success of Kaibaland, which the young CEO and his brother were currently planning on introducing to Europe and the US. He relayed the story of how, a year ago now, Jounouchi had tried to follow Honda and Shizuka around incognito on their first date , but had blown his cover spectacularly by falling asleep during the movie at the cinema and getting kicked out for his loud snoring.  
Yugi’s grandpa and mother still managed the game stop, although his mother did much more of the work now that Yugi was gone. They were doing well, thanks in no small part to the hordes of duelling fans who made regular pilgrimages to the shop, trying to catch a glimpse of the (still reigning) King of Games. Ryuji had signed a deal with Kaiba, of all people, and was happily spending his days perfecting his dice game. Mai and Jounouchi were in a long-distance relationship, and had been for many years now. Although conflicting duel schedules tended to get in their way, Yugi never saw either of them as happy as when they were able to make time for each other.

  
He told her about his travels; about all the places he’d been to, the people he’d met, the tournaments he’s won. Although his longing for the familiarity of home made him buy a ticket back to Japan every couple of months or so, Yugi was having the time his life. The only thing missing from the perfect picture, the topic which they’d managed to scurry around during their many, rambling conversations, was an absent, mutual friend.  
Yugi tried not to think about him too often, but sometimes his discipline, honed to an art over the years, would slip.

  
It happened on the night before Yugi was due to leave the city. He and Anzu were lounging in front of the television, happily stealing bits of each other’s Chinese takeaway. They were chatting aimlessly about small things, the TV left on mute for the most part.  
Yugi managed to drop a bean sprout on the floor at one stage during the night, and when raising his head from bending to pick it up, some footage on CNN caught his eye.  
_Continued unrest in Egypt_ , the caption read. The footage was confusing and dark, but it was easy to see the thousands of people amassed on the screen. _Tense scenes in Tahir Square….._  
Yugi stared at the screen, not noticing that Anzu’s chatter had fallen silent. He watched those thousands and thousands of angry, frightened people on the streets of Egypt’s capital and wondered what the Pharaoh would have made of everything happening in the country he had once ruled.

  
One little slip. Yugi had long since learned how destructive those little slips could be.

  
Before he knew it, memories were flooding his mind; trying to stem the flow was impossible. The sound of the spirit’s deep, regal voice, as smooth and calm as the Nile, echoed in his mind, making Yugi flinch. It was almost as if his friend was still there – as if Yugi could just reach into his soul room and call for him, the way he used to when he needed to talk.  
He remembered the stories the Pharaoh used to murmur to him at night when he couldn’t go to sleep – ancient tales which had echoed through three thousand years of Egyptian nights, whispered by countless mothers to countless children. The spirit’s recollection only ever went so far, and Yugi would always feel a badly-concealed wisp of pain from his friend’s mind at the point where his memory failed and he was forced to make up the rest.  
He always loved the stars. Yugi would often wake up in the middle of the night to see the Pharaoh sitting at his desk, staring through the skylight at the twinkling, velvet darkness above. Probably a comfort thing. Three millennia locked up in a dusty, shadowy tomb could give anyone a certain sense of claustrophobia.  
Yugi couldn’t stop his mouth from smirking as he remembered another incident in school. Poor Pharaoh, so surprised when Yugi suddenly swapped with him in the middle of class. He had no idea what an injection even was, let alone that the class was about to be called down for one which Yugi rather wished to avoid. (He did feel a little guilty about that one now, but the memory of the spirit’s pure, unadulterated shock when that nurse came brandishing the needle was one of Yugi’s most treasured memories)  
And then there was the time when-

  
‘Yugi?’

  
The duelist jumped at Anzu’s tentative voice, realising that he had been staring blankly at the screen for a couple of minutes now, lost in his own memories.  
He opened his mouth to allay her concerns, but ended up blurting out something very different.

  
‘I really miss him’

  
Anzu’s expression, one of pained sympathy, was lost on Yugi as he stared down at the ground, struggling to hold back the tears he suddenly felt welling up. He hadn’t cried in five years now, and he was damned if he was going to start now. The young man gulped down the painful lump in his throat.  
His resolve began to crumble when he heard Anzu’s sigh, her own voice shaking a little.  
It collapsed completely when he felt her warm, familiar hand on his shoulder, the way she used to comfort him after a bad day in school.  
Before he knew it, he was crying in earnest, dropping his head into his hands. He barely felt Anzu draping herself around his shoulders, doing her best not to cry herself.  
Yugi hiccupped through the tears, and managed to choke out a single sentence.

  
‘I’m-I’m never going to see him again!’

  
Anzu held him for a few hours until the tears dried up, leaving Yugi feeling shaken and weak, and desperate for just one last chance to see his friend from years ago.  
She said nothing to him, offering no words of comfort. There was nothing left for her to say.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬  
The next day, Yugi found himself back where he had started.  
Bustling travellers shoved and hurried past him, leaving behind a palpable atmosphere of tension and stress, but excitement too. The mix of emotions was electrifying. Yugi smiled as he watched a group of friends squabble in the queue for the 12:00 flight to Tokyo Narita. The two girls leaned happily on their travel cases, comparing photos on their cameras, while the boys had mock swordfights with empty Coke bottles. His high school days were long gone, but that didn’t stop Yugi from wishing he could pretend that they were still here, that he was simply waiting for his friends to arrive before they jetted off to a new tournament and another adventure. His breakdown the night before hadn’t exactly helped his homesickness.  
He glanced down at his own flight details, printed out from Anzu’s laptop. A one o’clock flight to Toronto. Another stay in another hotel. A week spent idling wandering the city. Then on to Montreal, to start the cycle all over again.  
_Can I really keep doing this?_  
Looking longingly over at the group of friends, Yugi thought about the Kame Game shop, and all the memories that came along with it. It had been such a long time since he’d last been home….  
Decision made, Yugi headed over to the tickets desk. This was going to cost him an arm and a leg, he knew, but he had that money saved from the last tournament he’d won in Seattle, and he wasn’t about to change his mind now.  
Ten minutes later, Yugi was standing behind the still play-fighting friends in the queue. As they checked in their bags and moved, laughing, away, Yugi turned for one last look at the New York sunshine streaming in through the windows.

  
It felt so good to be going home.  
Turning back around, Yugi couldn’t help but smile as he hauled his own bag up on to the belt.

  
_Maybe airports aren’t so bad after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for the long wait and short update. School life hit me like a bullet train these last few months......Ugh.


	3. Atem II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something else throws Atem's life into disarray. Just when he thought things couldn't get more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Pretty sure the Eighteenth Dynasty was still going strong the last time this fic was updated. Sorry about that. Thanks to everyone who commented/read/gave kudos!

There was truly nothing quite like Egyptian sunshine, Atem decided.

He was propped up against a sycamore tree in his private courtyard, eyes closed and face turned towards the sun. The sweet fragrance of lotus blossoms permeated the air, and the distant, ever-present sound of activity from within the palace only added to the peaceful atmosphere of the garden.   
Atem breathed out slowly, letting his mind clear for the first time in several weeks.

For half an hour, that's all he did. For a while, there were no festivals to organise, no court arguments to arbitrate, no religious rituals to perform.   
No potentially earth-shaking rip in dimensions to worry about.  
The Pharaoh simply sat and breathed in the sweet air of Aaru, the Afterlife.

Of course, it couldn't last for very long. Lazing around under trees was not generally in Atem's job description. 

A soft cough from his right caught his attention. Atem sighed and opened his eyes, gaze flicking over to the shady palace entrance. A servant was there, bowed so low that his head was nearly touching the ground. 

'Yes?'

'The Tjaty asks for your time, majesty'

Atem nodded, standing up and brushing as much sand as possible from his shendyt. The servant bowed even lower, and Atem took a moment to marvel at the man's balance.

'Tell him I'll be in the antechamber of my rooms'

'Understood, Great Pharaoh'

The servant straightened up, grimacing as several bones popped. He caught Atem's amused gaze for the space of one second before turning and hurrying away. Not before the Pharaoh saw the man's own grin, of course.  
Atem smiled after him, then took one last look at the clear blue sky, and turned back towards his rooms. It seemed a king's work was never done.  
___________________________________________________________________________

'There has been no other sign of disturbances so far, my king. The priests in all the temples as far as Iunu and Swenett have been ordered to keep an eye out for strange occurrences. If any more people from the other world wander in, we will find them'

'Good. And how is Isis' investigation going? Is the Necklace showing her anything?'

Siamun shook his head. 

'Nothing, your majesty. It may be that this was a once-off accident, not fated to happen again'

Atem frowned. 'I can't believe that. If my experiences have taught me anything, it's that nothing happens without reason, even if it's not obvious to us at first. Besides, if it were a single incident, that would leave Adam stranded here. He's still living - all of us here are techinally dead. Surely the Gods would not allow an imbalance like that to exist'

Siamun nodded. 

'It does seem strange, my lord. But there is not much we can do at the moment except continue as we always have. Isis will continue to look for a passage home for the young man, and the priests will remain on alert. But anything else would only cause panic amongst the people - it is your duty still to protect Ma'at, and unfortunately that may mean keeping this...incident from them'

As always, Siamun spoke wise words, and Atem was thankful for them. He could feel one of his frequent headaches coming on, and contemplating cosmic disturbances and the possibility of nation-wide hysteria wasn't helping.

'Agreed. Is there anything else, Siamun?'

The old man hesitated, glancing sideways at the Pharaoh. 

Interesting, Atem thought. He's keeping something from me

'No, my lord. Perhaps if your head is hurting you, you may wish to take the evening off. Your priests will hold court in your absence. Perhaps a trip down to the river with Mana would help?'

Atem smiled. He couldn't keep anything from Siamun, it seemed.  
That works both ways, dear Tjaty, Atem thought as they said their farewells. Whatever you're up to, I'll find out before long.  
___________________________________________________________________________

Finding Adam was never difficult. After two months in the Palace, the man was still too nervous to stray very far from his rooms in the Royal Quarter. The furthest he ever got was the kitchen, the stables or the guest pleasure garden.   
It didn't help, Atem mused, that he was the only one around who could speak with him properly. The man was finding it extremely difficult to pick up any Egyptian words, and those he had gotten he couldn't pronounce half the time. The guttural Ks and Rs were causing him trouble. Even though Atem had told him (as best as he could) that his servants were patient and that he was welcome to go as far within the palace complex as he wished, Adam still stuck to his familiar haunts.

Which is why the Pharaoh wasn't surprised to find him hanging around the Royal stables, nervously scratching the noses of the curious horses. He had finally given up his beloved tracksuit, after weeks of Atem telling him that he'd regret not wearing the light linen the rest of them wore in the heavy Egyptian heat. A mild case of heatstroke convinced him in the end, and he now wore a shendyt and a tunic, although Atem had to admit that the man looked a little strange in them, with his pale skin.   
He and Mana had not yet convinced the man to wear Kohl, but they were nothing if not determined.

'The horses are very friendly. Do you ride often?'

Adam jumped, banging his knee against the wooden stable door and spooking the horse he had been petting. 

'Fuck me!'

Atem grinned and raised his eyebrows while Adam spluttered and attempted a bow. 

'I mean.....uh, good evening, Pharaoh. You frightened me a little there'

'I can see that. But you have not answered my question. Do you ride horses?'

Adam glanced cautiously at the horse nearest to him, a lovely, gentle grey gelding that had been around for as long as Atem could remember. The horse snorted, and Adam flinched.  
The Pharaoh couldn't help himself. He laughed, and after a few seconds of looking indignant, Adam smiled back.

'Well, you will learn today then! Come, let us go down to the river on the horses. Mana will be here soon too'

Atem gestured for the nearby stable hand and ordered him to saddle up three horses (making sure that one was suited for a beginner rider) while Adam stood by nervously.   
Mana arrived just as the stable hand was doing his best to hoist a very-reluctant Adam into the saddle of the old grey gelding, an amused Atem looking on from his own mount.  
She clapped and laughed when he finally worked up the courage to nudge his horse forward a little, and he acknowledged her with a wave and a smile on his slightly-green face. 

Adam seemed quite fond of Mana, even though they had no common language to speak in. Atem couldn't help but wonder if the man was developing a crush on her.  
Although he was never quite sure of his own judgement when it came to matters like that. He hadn't even noticed Anzu's crush on him until Yugi pointed it out.

When Adam no longer looked like he was about to either slip from the saddle or throw up, Atem turned his horse in the direction of the private palace path that led down to the Nile and nudged her into a trot, letting Mana and Adam follow behind.  
___________________________________________________________________________

'Ankh'

'Ank'

'Ankh' 

'.....Anke'

Mana laughed and shook her head, clearly deciding that the word was a lost cause.   
She glanced back towards the city, where the torches were just being lit in the dying twilight. Her eyes lit up with inspiration.  
She pointed at the city excitedly, slapping Adam on the arm to get his attention back.

'Waset'

Adam hesitated, then mimicked the word with surprisingly good pronunciation.

'Waset'

Mana laughed, delighted, and patted Adam on the shoulder. 'He's getting better!'

Atem grinned, not looking up from the reed boat he was making. 'He is'

Adam spoke up in English.

'Pharaoh? Is Waset 'city' or...?'

'It is, ah....name of this city. The word for city is 'Niwt''

Adam nodded in thanks, hesitating a second before trying the word out.

'......Newt'

Mana's peal of laughter rang out again, and Atem grinned. Guess Adam wouldn't be conversing fluently with the locals just yet.

There were lounging on the riverbank. The river was still, with only a few ripples to make the reeds sway. The sun was setting over Ta-Sekhet-Ma'at, the Valley of the Kings. Atem was surprised, when he first arrived in the Afterlife, to find that the necropolis still existed, even in this world. He quickly figured out that the geography of Kemet remained as he remembered, which meant that the Valley was still there, even though all the tombs were empty.

The Pharaoh sighed as he finished his little reed boat. He showed it to Mana, who ran and plucked a wildflower to place in it. Atem could see Adam smiling as he watched them.  
He was glad. The man looked more relaxed than he had since he first arrived. Still, Atem felt a rush of guilt for not finding the man a way home yet. He remembered the feeling of knowing he was supposed to be somewhere else, of enjoying himself but never quite feeling at home.

Atem resolved to throw everything he had into finding out how to get Adam back to where he came from. It could be the only way to keep the world safe. The only way to protect Yugi......  
The three of them watched as Atem's little boat sailed away down the Nile, the river's gentle currents taking it further and further away from them until it was nothing but a small shadow on the horizon.  
___________________________________________________________________________

Just one more duty left, then he could go to bed. That was the only thought keeping the Pharaoh going as he listened to Siamun listing off the evening activity of the court he had missed. Laying his head against the ornate rest on his low sofa, Atem tried to keep in focus. An evening of relaxation had helped with his headache, but left him in no real mood to think of court matters. 

'The conflict between Lord Kanefer and Lord Harsiese concerning land boundaries has been resolved too. They agreed on drawing up a new stone boundary after the Harvest, with Kanefer giving the surplus he grew on Harsiese's land to him as compensation'

Atem grunted to show his approval. It was about time those two idiots had sorted themselves out. After two weeks of pointless debate and ignoring any offers of compromise, Atem had flat out refused to hear them any more, leaving the matter to his priests to sort out. Perhaps that was what Simaun and the court had been up to in his absence that day.

'Lady Khamerernebty has had her second child, and will be returning to court in a few weeks. Lord Nakhet has brought a couple of poachers to our attention. We've given them an extra month of public work on the Temple at Swenett as punishment. And we agreed on the final details of the marriage contract between yourself and Lady Neith of Abdju'

Atem's eyes shot open.

'What?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I don't lose any readers because of that haha. Stay tuned for Atem's desperate attempts to remain a bachelor.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope someone enjoys.
> 
> By the way, I borrowed from real life for the camel-getting-into-the-harem thing. Except in real life it was a horse that got onto a bus. As you can imagine, my reaction when I heard about it was pretty much the same as Atem's.


End file.
